Among the scores of book donations I’ve received was the irresistibly titled
The Sweet Smell of Psychosis, a novella by Will Self. It seemed particularly attractive after my long slog through Robert Ludlum’s
Trevayne. It is the story of a clique of young London media hipsters seen through the eyes of one of the men. It concentrates on after work activities: drinking, drug usage and the ridiculing of others. Reading it, I was glad I’d always resisted the temptations of such society. It is superbly written, however, and manifests a keen mind at work. Self’s vocabulary is impressive. He uses many words with which I was unfamiliar. His portraits of the players are keen. I related to the main character’s relentless desire for the group’s beauty. I did not understand the title's reference to psychosis until the very end, and I assume it is drug induced, not genetic, although the character claims to have been clean for a couple of days before the climactic rendezvous. Is repressed homosexuality at the root of it? I’m not sure, although it’s not far-fetched, given the man’s obsession with the group’s most successful member and leader. I found it confusing. Then again, is psychosis clear to even psychologists and psychiatrists? The book’s 89 pages read like half that, given the large print and spacing, and the grotesque illustrations of Martin Rowson, who was once appointed Cartoonist Laureate of London. Rowson has written graphic novels. His overall work has a leftist bias, but that is not in play in Self‘s novella. The drawings certainly seem as if they could have been done by a psychotic. I suspect the title is a take-off on the film
The Sweet Smell of Success (1957), starring Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis as unscrupulous gossip columnists, based on the novella by legendary screenwriter Ernest Lehman, and directed by Alexander Mackendrick, whose other works have not stood the test of time as well. It's stature has grown through the years, as evidenced by its rating of 8.1 of ten at IMDb. As for the novella, on a scale of five, three. Facts were also culled from Wiki.
After two days on the sidelines, I was chomping at the bit to get the floating book shop underway. Everything fell into place. I got the most favorable parking spot, and my two best customers, Lev and Mrs. Eclectic, showed and bought a bunch of books and DVDs between them. I also received a substantial donation of novels in Russian from Michael, and about ten of them sold. Thanks, folks.
Vic's 4th Novel:
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